


A Little Unsteady

by finnley_sherlock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Annoyed John Watson, Anorexia, Anorexia Recovery, Anorexic Sherlock, Atheist Character, Blood and Gore, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy, Friends to Lovers, Gore, Hurt Sherlock Holmes, Hurt/Comfort, Jewish Character, Johnlock - Freeform, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Other, PTSD John, PTSD Sherlock, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redbeard - Freeform, Sherlock Being Annoying, Sherlock gets a dog!, Speech Disorders, Stuttering, Top John Watson, Vulnerable Sherlock, stuttering sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finnley_sherlock/pseuds/finnley_sherlock
Summary: Sherlock is hurt, and nobody can see it. Nobody can see it except for John. John can see the pain in his best friends eyes...best friend? lover? After years of begging for a dog, John finally caves in and brings home a puppy for Sherlock. The rest of the story follows after :)
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 34
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HI I DONT KNOW WHAT TO PUT HERE. I MADE THIS A FEW WEEKS AGO BUT I JUST NOW GOT AN ARCHIVE ACC SO YEAH. SORRY THIS IS REALLY BAD. I HOPE YOU ENJOY THO LOL. AND PLEASE GIVE FEEDBACK :')

Author's note: Good morning. I’m writing this in the midst of a hurricane, huddled under a blanket with my dog, Ginger. This story is dedicated to her and another friend of mine :) Now, enjoy this trash~

There he was, Sherlock, sprawled out in the grass. Asleep, his head resting on Lyova’s stomach. Lyova is Sherl’s dog, a golden retriever, specifically. John gifted him to Sherlock on Christmas morning a few months back. It's not that he ever really asked for a dog, but John knew. He knew about Redbeard and the horrible things that happened in Sherl’s childhood. And the “subtle” hints of Sherlock saying “You know...studies say that dogs can boost oxytocin level in the human brain by up to 80%” turning into “JAWN LOOK AT THAT DOG OVER THERE PLEASE IT NEEDS A HOME” whenever they passed by a kennel, was beginning to become too much for John to handle. On Christmas Eve last year, John texted Mycroft;

John: Mycroft, come visit your brother. Need to do some last minute Christmas shopping and I can’t have him out of the house.

Mycroft: Alright, be there in 15 minutes

John: You can do better than that

Mycroft: Fine, be there in 10

John: That’s more like it.

As soon as Mycroft got to 221b, John left the flat. He planned on adopting a puppy from the local kennel, but on his way there, he noticed a whimpering sound coming from the alley across the street. He stopped in his tracks and stood there for a moment.  
Is that a dog…  
Quickly, he looked both ways before crossing to make sure there were no cars, and then ran towards the alley. He kept walking further and further into the darkness as the whimpering grew louder and louder. He stopped once he saw a cardboard box with a bit of golden fluff poking out.  
He peeked inside the box, and there it was. A golden retriever puppy, shivering in London’s freezing cold weather. There were snowflakes falling from the sky that would drop on its nose every once in a while. John knew immediately that this dog was the one for his flatmate. John graciously scooped up the puppy from its box, and held it close to his chest, keeping it warm from the London snow. Quickly, John trotted over to the kennel that he was originally going to adopt a dog from. He needed a few things. Well actually, he only needed to buy a kennel and a collar, the rest of the things he and Sherlock would go out and buy tomorrow. As the pup buried its nose into John’s coat, John walked around the store for a bit until he found a small kennel. He picked it up and put it under his arm.  
Now a collar…  
John made his way over to the leash and collar section of the store, carefully examining each and every one of the options to choose from on the shelf. Finally, he picked up a burgundy leather collar. It was a little bit big for the pup, but it was the only one left, so it had to do.  
Ah, a name? What do I name him...her...no, him.  
John stood there, staring at the collar, trying to come up with a name. Ollie, Kota, Smaug, Wilkes…  
Hmm...Wilkes actually is kinda nice. Especially considering Sherlock’s obsession with John Wilkes Booth.  
After about 10 minutes of just standing there and staring at the collar, John finally decided to not name him yet. He would let Sherlock name him.  
John walked over to one of the corners of the stores, sat down against the wall, and pulled out his phone to text Mrs.Hudson.

John: Good Evening Mrs. Hudson. Don’t let Sherlock see your phone. I got him a dog, can it stay with you until tomorrow morning?

Mrs. Hudson: Oh, John! Sherlock will be delighted. Of course, bring it over whenever you’d like.

John: Thank you so much. It is a stray, so it might have a bit of trauma, I apologize if it keeps you up all night.

Mrs Hudson: That is quite alright, dear. Got a name for it yet?

John: Not yet, gonna let Sherl decide tomorrow.

John turned his phone off and put it back in his pocket. He sat there for a little while longer, just to let the pup warm up some.

...

“UGH MYCROFT WHY ARE YOU HERE? WHEN WILL JOHN BE BACK?” John heard Sherlock complaining, as he walked up the stairs. He chuckled a little bit to himself.

“Relax, brother mine. He will be back soon” Mycroft said as John opened the door.

“Did I miss something?” John asked with a smug look on his face.

“Like I said,” Mycroft snorted.

Sherlock stood up and smiled creepily into John’s eyes, “You left me here with this bloody prick, you owe me”. John rolled his eyes and smiled, “Trust me, you’ll appreciate it later. Also, Mycroft, you can leave now if you’d like.”  
“With pleasure.” Mycroft stood up, grabbed his umbrella, and opened the door, “See ya tomorrow morning” he said as he walked out.  
“He is going to be here tomorrow!?” Sherlock complained.  
“Of course, Idiot. So is Mrs. Hudson, Greg, and Molly” John listed as he sat down on the couch and grabbed the remote for the telly.  
“What about Lestrade?’’  
John made a noise, somewhat a mixture of a scoff and a laugh, “Greg is Lestrade”.  
Sherlock smiled, made his way over to the couch, and plopped down right next to John. He lied down and laid his head on John’s lap.  
“Whatcha wanna watch?” John asked cheerfully.  
Sherlock closed his eyes, “Dateline.”  
John scoffed, “You mean that crappy American true crime series?”  
“It’s actually kind of good. Some horrible episodes here and there. But most are good.” Sherl replied back.  
A few seconds passed with pure silence, until John finally said “Ya know, I don’t think they have it here in Britain.”  
“I checked. It’s on BBC at 11pm.”  
“Do we even have BBC?”  
Sherlock looked up at John, clearly confused, “John. We live in England. Of course we are going to have BBC. I’m pretty sure it’s built into the telly, or something like that...just... turn it on.”  
“Okay okay”. John pointed the remote towards the telly, and flipped the channels until he finally found Dateline.  
“Happy now?”  
“Very.”

...

By 2am, Sherlock had fallen asleep with his head still on John’s lap, and John was still awake with a book in his hands, about to fall asleep though. Carefully, John stood up and scooped up the extremely light-weight Sherlock in his arms, and carried him over to his bed. He draped a blanket over the sleeping young man, and patted his head. John quietly walked over to the door and shut off the lights.  
“Merry Christmas, Sherlock” He whispered, then softly shut the door.

...

Sherlock awoke the next morning. The sun shined through the blinds and was basically blinding him. He rolled out of bed and looked out his window.  
Snow...lots of it. No cars...Christmas?  
He has just remembered, it’s Christmas. Although Sherlock is an Atheist, all of his friends and family were Christian. He got presents out of it, so he just went along with it.  
He heard distant chatter from the other room.  
Is everyone here already?  
Sherl looked at his phone, it was already 8am. He had slept in, a lot. He slowly opened the creaky door and peeked his head out.  
Everyone is here. The presents aren’t opened. They waited for me.  
Sherlock smiled to himself for a moment, then opened the door the rest of the way and walked on out to the living room.  
“There you are!” Greg exclaimed.  
“Merry Christmas, brother mine” Mycroft said, he actually smiled for once. It was strange.  
John walked over to Sherlock and gave him a big hug, “Merry Christmas, Sherl”  
Why is everyone being so nice?  
Molly and Mrs. Hudson waved to Sherl. He waved back.  
Do I hate this?  
“Alright, presents!” Greg called out.

…

A few hours of opening presents had passed, it was now 11am. Everyone was happy. Despite Sherlock’s annoyingness throughout the year, he had surprisingly managed to get a ton of expensive gifts. Lots of clothing from Armani, which was probably his favourite brand. Although he was happy and grateful for the gifts people got him, he was still upset. John noticed it too. Sherlock had always tried to hide when he was upset by making a certain face, and looking away from everyone.  
“Sherlock” John said.  
“Hm?”  
“Stay right here. I have one more gift for you.”  
Sherlock made a face of confusion and excitement. John signaled for Mrs. Hudson, and together they walked out of the room, whispering to each other and smiling.  
Molly walked over to Sherlock and sat next to him on the floor, “What do you think it is?”  
Sherlock looked at the ground for a few moments until he finally said “Actually...I have no idea”.  
Molly smiled. Everyone in the room knew about the dog except for Sherlock. You’d think he would’ve made a deduction by now, but everyone managed to hide it very well.

Mrs. Hudson came back in and held the door open for John as he walked in with a big box in his arms. He knelt down and placed it into Sherlock's lap, and sat in front of him, smiling. Lestrade started to secretly record with his phone. There was a red bow on the top of the box with a note attached to it, it read;

Dear Sherlock,  
You have been bugging me for quite some time now about this,  
and I couldn’t bear to see you upset.  
Hope you like it X  
-John (With the help of Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, and Lestrade, for  
keeping this a secret)

“Open it!” John encouraged, eagerly.

Sherlock slowly lifted the lid of the box off, and revealed a dark-golden puppy. It was sitting down on a red velvet blanket, with a red bow tied loosely around its neck to match, smiling at Sherlock.  
Sherlock’s eyes widened and he cupped a hand over his mouth. Starting to cry, he looked up at John in disbelief, and then back down at the puppy. Crying soon turned into sobbing. No one had ever seen Sherlock cry before, at least not like this.  
Still crying, Sherlock looked down at the puppy and picked it up, holding it close to his face. He laid down on the floor, with the puppy resting on Sherlock’s chest. As tears were rolling down Sherlock’s cheeks, he smiled at the puppy.  
“Lyova” Sherlock sniffed.  
“What was that?” John asked.  
“His name. Lyova”  
“Ah yes. Well we can go to the kennel today and create a tag for him with his name and our phone numbers and everything” John said, ruffling Sherlock’s hair.  
Sherlock smiled, still crying a little, “Where did you get him?”  
“Found him, actually. In a cardboard box”  
Sherlock looked at John, smiled, and looked back at Lyova, his brand new puppy.  
“Thank you” He said quietly.  
“You’re welcome,” John said back as he hugged Sherlock and Lyova.

“I think I’m crying,” Lestrade said out of nowhere.  
“I think we all are. More so because we have never seen Sherlock cry like that” Molly replied.  
“Look, even Mycroft is crying a little” John whispered into Sherlock’s ear. They both began to start laughing in unison, while Lyova was licking Sherlock’s face.


	2. chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry the chapter is so short. i thought that since i will be posting a lot of chapters, they will probably be shorter if that makes sense...lol. this will probably be the shortest chapter tho so don't worry lol.

It was New Year’s Eve and Sherlock lay under the old beech tree, his head resting on Lyova’s stomach. 23:36, Sherlock was staring up at the stars and Lev was doing his own thing, just chomping on the grass and sniffing the few bugs that came across his path.  
DIE DIE DIE!!!  
“Bark! Bark! Bark!”  
Sherlock turned his head to look back at Lyova, “What is it, boy?”. Lev looked at Sherlock and licked his nose real quick before he went back to smushing bugs with his paws. Sherlock laughed and settled his head back onto Lev’s stomach. Looking at the stars, he began to doze off, thinking about good things like Redbeard, and Lyova and John...John…

…

John ran throughout London, looking through places that Sherlock would go whenever he was sad or upset. He was beginning to worry. His friend was nowhere in sight and has been missing since 20:00. John stopped in his tracks and slumped down against the wall of the local pub. He’s nowhere...John was on the verge of crying.   
Why must Sherlock always run away like this?  
Earlier that evening, John and Sherlock had gotten into an argument about Sherlock’s bad eating (or should I say not-eating) habits.~  
“All you do is run after stupid criminals all day, go home, stay up all night playing the violen, and sleep for 30 minutes! You don’t even eat a bread crumb and it’s really starting to piss me off, you could die Sherlock! This is getting you absolutely nowhere in life!”  
As soon as the words left the doctors mouth, he wished he could’ve taken them back.  
Sherlock’s sky blue eyes began to water, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even know what to say, because John was right. His habits were getting him nowhere in life.  
“Okay”, Sherlock replied, barely above a whisper. He called Lyova over to him and together they walked out of the flat, Sherlock slamming the door behind them.  
“Sherlock, wait!” John yelled, but no reply.

…

After a few minutes of crying outside the local pub and recalling his and his flatmate’s recent dispute, John stood back up, calm and collected, and continued his search for Sherlock. He passed by different shops and restaurants, asking if his friend had stopped by, but none had any remembrance of Sherlock ever being there in the past few hours. Eventually, he entered Hyde Park and walked around for a bit. He never expected Sherlock to be there, of all places. Sherlock was more likely to move to Russia than to take a walk through Hyde Park...Especially on New Year’s Eve. At almost the same moment these thoughts were entering John’s head, he saw a small frail figure lying on the grass under an old beech tree, it’s head resting on another figure. The doctor shined his flashlight, and there he was, Sherlock, sprawled out in the grass. Asleep, his head resting on Lyova’s stomach. John smiled and sighed a sigh of relief. He knelt down toward the sleeping younger man.  
“Sherlock” He whispered, softly shaking one of his shoulders. God, he was beautiful sleeping like that. Well, he is beautiful all the time, but when he was sleeping he looked like an angel and a kitten at the same time.  
Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open, and he lifted his head to look up at John.  
“Sherlock...I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I was just upset and I’m genuinely really worried for you...I...I just don’t want to lose you again.” John said quietly, as a single tear slipped down his cheek.  
Sherlock smiled slightly, “John...it’s okay...i’m sorry too. I promise, you won’t lose me again”  
John lifted Sherlock up so that he was sitting, wrapped his arms around his slim waist, and rested his chin on top of the detective’s unruly dark brown curls, Sherlock’s head was placed on the doctor’s chest.  
The chimes of Big Ben interrupted their hug, and John pulled back, looked at Sherlock for a moment, and kissed him, right there in Hyde park. The kiss lasted through three chimes from Big Ben, until John pulled back and chuckled a little bit as he saw Sherlock sitting there, blushing and in shock from what had just happened.  
“Happy New Years, Sherlock”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH SO THAT HAPPENED ALSO IM SORRY THAT I MADE THEM GET INTO A LITTLE FIGHT ;-;


	3. chapter three

“D-did...you just k-kiss me?” Sherlock stuttered.  
John locked eyes with the detective, “Yeah, I uh...I did” he smiled, and looked down. Sherlock’s blushing increased and his eyes were rapidly moving, trying to deduct John and figure out his motives as to why he kissed him. Of course, Sherlock wanted it. He always had hoped this day might come, but never ever figured that it actually would.

“Wha... why....” Sherlock tried to speak, but couldn’t manage to get his words out.  
“Sherlock. I meant it” John stated.  
“R-r-really?”  
“Yes!” John exclaimed as he pulled Sherlock into another hug.  
“Can we go back to the flat?” Sherlock whispered  
“Of course.” John picked Sherlock up so that his head was resting on John’s shoulder, and his legs were wrapped around John’s waist. They began to walk, and Sherlock called Lyova over to them. Quickly, the golden retriever pup sprang up from his sleeping position and began to tread along behind his owners.

…

“A-are you sure you c-can carry me all the way back?” Sherl asked, after a few minutes of John struggling to get them both in a comfortable position.  
“Yeah..uh...of course..remember Sherlock..I was a soldier.” He said, breathlessly. Sherlock really wasn’t that heavy, but John hadn’t been used to picking up anything over 13kg since his departure from the army.

“Sherlock how much do you weigh?” John asked. As soon as Lyova heard that, his ears perked up and he growled deeply at John. Sherlock taught him to always respond to that question in an aggressive manner because it triggered his PTSD. He was almost training Lev as an ESA, but technically he couldn’t be a legal ESA, because Sherlock always refused to see a therapist.  
Sherlock’s heart dropped at John’s question, “Wha- what-”, he then looked down at Lev and smiled slightly, mouthing “good boy”.  
“Oh, shit! No no I didn’t mean it like that, ugh, I’m so sorry”  
“It’s um...it’s okay. I-I’m 52kg” Sherlock whispered, hesitantly.  
John’s eyes widened as he stopped in his tracks, “Fifty two- Sherlock! I-” He stopped his scolding once he felt Sherlock go tense in his arms.  
He sighed, “I’m sorry...again. I’m just worried for you. Can we at least get takeaway on our way back home?”  
Home… all Sherl wanted right now was to go back home. To go home and lay on the couch, his head resting on John’s lap, and Lev lying below them, chewing a soft squeaker toy.  
“Y-yeah...sure”

…

They stopped by a local Chinese restaurant nearby their flat, Sherlock and Lyova stayed outside while they wait for John to come back out with the food.  
After a couple minutes of waiting, John came back out with their late night dinner, and some for Lev too.  
“Look Sherl, they have little dog treats for Lev too! Isn’t that amazing?” John exclaimed enthusiastically.  
“Yes, yes quite good” Sherlock smiled, and stood back up. Their arms would brush together every now and then, as they continued their walk. Sometimes Lev would look up at the two of them and bark happily. Who knows what that ball of fluff was saying…  
When they got back to 221b Baker Street, Mrs Hudson greeted them, as usual. They went upstairs and John placed the takeaway bag on the table, and placed everything in an orderly fashion.  
“Alright, it’s ready!” John yelled, no response.  
“Sherlock?”  
He walked towards the bathroom and heard the shower running.  
“Sherl, you okay?”  
A few seconds of silence passed.  
“Yeah! I’m fine!” he finally replied back.  
John seemed skeptical, but let it slide for now. “Okay well dinner is on the table…”

…

A few minutes later, Sherlock stepped out of the bathroom with his silky maroon dressing gown on, his wet curly hair slicked back, and a forced smile on his face. He walked over to the table and grabbed his food. John looked up at him from the chair he was sitting in,  
“Well, you look handsome” he stated with a smirk on his face.  
Sherlock smiled, a real smile this time. Much better than his forced smile.  
“Thank you. Can we eat in the living room? I want to watch Dateline”  
“It’s 1am, love. You need to eat and then go to bed.” John said casually.  
“PLEASE JAWN I REALLY REALLY WANT TO WATCH DATELINE” Sherlock begged.  
“Okay...okay fine we can watch Dateline...I don’t even know why BBC airs that stupid show…” He mumbled that last bit.  
“Pardon?”  
“Nothing-” John replied quickly.

They walked over to the couch and sat down. Sherlock lifted his knees up towards his chest and rested his head on John’s shoulder. John grabbed the remote, and turned on the telly. He flipped through the channels until he found Dateline.  
“Hah, you were right. This garbage show is on at 1am”  
“ITS NOT GARBAGE JAWN”  
“Yeah yeah”   
The two of them looked at each other and began laughing in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone wanna guess what's wrong with sherlock?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: SELF HARM

That night, at around 3 in the morning, John and Sherlock had fallen asleep on the couch. Sherlock’s head resting on John’s lap, like usual. The background noise from the twenty-four hour marathon of Dateline had been playing in the background since after they had gotten home. Sherlock awoke after he heard the *tip taps* from Lyova’s claws as he was walking to the water bowl in the kitchen. Typically, Sherlock was a very heavy sleeper (when he did sleep). But the events from last night had him tossing and turning in his sleep, the smallest noise could have awoken him, and it did. He lifted his left arm up and looked at his watch. He sighed, 03:17. It had been about two hours since he had eaten dinner with John. He slowly and quietly slid off of the couch, and stood up on his feet. Lyova stopped drinking his water and looked back at Sherlock, tilting his head.  
“Shh” Sherlock said, pulling one finger up to his mouth.  
Lyova slowly padded over to his owner and licked his fingers.  
“It’s okay, Lev. Don’t tell John.” Sherlock whispered, scratching Lev’s head. He then removed his hand from the pup’s head and quietly walked over to the bathroom, his body tense, anxiously hoping that his flatmate doesn’t wake up. He walked in and shut the door, locking it behind him. He turned the shower on, just in case John woke up, and he would think that Sherlock was just taking a shower.  
Now knelt down by the toilet, he purged out everything he had eaten that day. He leaned back against the wall and brought his knees up to his chest, his head buried in his arms, and began to cry. Then, he remembered the stash of razor blades he kept in a box inside one of the drawers… 

…

Lyova ran after Sherlock, but was met by a door in front of his snout. He sat down and tilted his head. After about a minute, he whined and scratched his paws at the door. He laid down and tried to fit his paw under the crack of the door, making a horrible screeching noise. This caused John to groan and turn in his sleep for a moment. Lev sat back up and stared at the door handle, knowing he was not yet defeated. For he could not reach the handle, but he knew someone that could. He looked back at John who was still fast asleep in the living room. The pup ran to his other owner and stood beside the couch, ready to pounce on him if he didn’t wake up right away.  
“BARK!”  
No response.  
“BARK! BARK! BARK!”  
The man’s ocean blue eyes finally fluttered open. He turned over to the golden retriever and stared at him for a moment until finally whispering “What do you want, Lev?”.  
The dog put a paw on John’s lap, and then pointed his snout towards the bathroom door.  
“BARK!”  
John looked at his lap, finally beginning to realize that the detective was no longer snoozing there, and that the shower water was running. Two showers in one day? That doesn’t quite seem right, especially when it was nearly 4 in the morning.  
Lev barked once more, then ran back towards the bathroom, now aggressively scratching on the door.  
John quickly stood up, slightly dizzy as his brain was trying to adjust to the sudden change of movement. He walked over to the bathroom quickly, and put his ear to the door. He heard the shower running, but yet no movement. As panic started to flood over him, he heard a small “clink” sound. It was something hitting the ground. Soon after the little clink, there was a slight thud.  
“Oh shit” John said.  
“Sherlock!” He yelled, knocking on the door. He toggled at the door knob, but it was locked.  
“Sherlock! Are you okay? Can you open the door, please?” He yelled once more. There was still no response, so the short man grabbed a pin out of his pocket and fiddled with the lock, until he finally got it open. He burst into the bathroom to see his lover lying on the floor with a puddle of blood by his left arm.  
“Holy shi-” John mumbled. He grabbed a rag off of the towel rack and pressed it against the cut on Sherlock’s arm, and set his head on his lap.  
“Sherlock, wake up please” John said as he began to shake Sherlock’s shoulders.  
“BARK! BARK!” Lyova barked from outside the bathroom.  
“Sherlock!” He yelled, crying.  
The detective's eyes fluttered open. He didn’t say anything, but instead just looked around the room, avoiding John’s eyes.  
“Sherl...what happened?”   
Sherlock finally locked eyes with him.  
“I...i...i d-don’t know…”  
“For Christ’s sake Sherlock...Please tell me, why did you do this?” John pleaded. “Is it something I said?”  
“N-no John...Of c-course not” He reassured him.  
The cut was no longer bleeding, thanks to the very trustworthy and experienced Dr Watson. But John still had debated on whether or not taking Sherlock to the hospital would be the right decision. After a few moments of his two inner voices debating, he decided not to take Sherlock to the hospital. The detective despises hospitals, and it would probably make his mental state even worse if he was forced to be taken to one.   
“Hey...Sherlock?”  
“Hm?”  
“So… i’m not going to take you to the hospital…”  
“Okay…” Sherlock interrupted  
“But, I need you to cooperate with me, okay?”  
“Okay.” He agreed.  
John grabbed a bandage from the cabinet and placed it on the wound after he had disinfected it.  
“What did you use?” John asked, figuring that Sherlock would know what he was talking about.  
“What...d-do you mean?”  
“You know what I mean, Sherlock.”  
Sherlock sighed, and pointed over to the sink. In the sink bowl, there was a small blade lined with blood. John groaned and squinted his eyes in disbelief.   
“Is there any more?” He asked, hoping for a no.  
Sherlock bit his lip, hesitant to answer, but finally pointed to the bottom drawer of the sink.  
John opened the drawer, which revealed a small black box. He opened it carefully, and inside there were two syringes, four bottles of only God knows what types of drugs were contained inside, seven razor blades, and one bottle of laxative pills. John’s heart sunk. He took the box and quickly ran out of the bathroom, hiding the box where Sherlock (hopefully) couldn’t find it. 

Once he walked back into the bathroom, he sadly looked down at Sherlock. He bent down and scooped up the vulnerable boy into his arms and walked into Sherlock’s bedroom, placing him on the bed. He covered him with a blanket, and after a few moments of staring at the younger man, a small mumble finally came from Sherlock;  
“W-will you s-stay?”  
John nodded his head, “Yes, of course, Love”.  
He got under the covers with Sherl and draped an arm over his waist, with Sherl’s head resting on John’s chest. A few moments of silence passed until John heard a few soft sobs come from the man beneath him.   
“Shh...It’s okay, Sherl. I’m here now. It’s okay.” He said to him comfortably, while he tussled Sherlock’s dark brown hair with his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This portion of the story was originally going to be a flashback to the first chapter/Christmas time, but I made it a dream instead just cuz. This chapter is based off a movie from 1947 called Its a Wonderful Life. Really good movie, i recommend. basically, the main character, George wishes he were never born, so his guardian angel, Clarence, shows him what life were like if George had never existed.

There stood Sherlock, on top of the Southwark Bride. His cold feet stood in the white snow as small flakes began to gracefully fall onto his coat, and would then slowly fade away. His hands stood on the railing, and his chest heaving. Looking around the large London city, there was no one to be seen. There was no Lyova, no John...Just him.   
“I wish I were dead.” He mumbled to himself, crying.  
He closed his eyes and slowly lifted one leg to the top of the railing, about to climb on top. All of sudden, there was a splash. That wasn’t from him. He hadn’t jumped in yet. He opened his eyes and quickly put his foot back on the ground. Confused, he looked down into the water searching for what the cause of the splash was.  
“Help! Help! I can’t swim!” a voice of a man flooded Sherlock’s ears. He saw a head bob up from the freezing river. Sherlock frantically put his hands on his head and pulled on his hair, in distress. Without thinking, he jumped into the river. After a few moments of looking around for the stranger, he finally spotted him. He swam over to him, grabbed him with his now numb hands and pulled him out of the water and back onto land. The man coughed a few times before standing up and brushing off his wet shirt, then looked into Sherlock’s eyes and smiled.

“Ah, thanks Sherly” He said  
Sherlock tilted his head and lifted a finger up, “Uh, n-no problem...How do you know my name?”  
“Better question, why were you about to jump off the bridge?”  
“I- What- No no no. Why did YOU jump into the water if you couldn’t swim?” Sherlock protested.  
“To save you, of course!” The man said, beginning to wander off.  
Sherlock made a face of utter confusion as he began to follow the man, “No, I saved you”  
The man turned around, still walking but now backwards, “We’re both still standing”. He smiled, then turned back around. Sherlock rolled his eyes at this insane stranger.   
“What’s your name?” He asked  
“Azrael. And you are Sherlock Holmes.”  
“Again, how do you know my name?” He asked  
“I know lots of things. Also, you’re practically a celebrity, dearie.”. Sherlock still continued to follow the stranger.  
“Why are you following me?”  
“I d-don’t know...I just have nowhere e-else to g-go I guess…” Sherlock said, hesitantly.  
“No John? No Mrs. Hudon? Or your brother Mycroft, or Molly?”  
“Yes...but I don’t want to go back right now...They’d just be disappointed in me…”  
“I see...Now, Sherly, can you tell me what you were doing on top of that bridge?” Azrael asked.  
“Um...I was going to jump. Also, where are we going?” He asked, trying to change the subject. Azrael stopped in his tracks and turned around to Sherlock, “Home.” he smiled, and then faded away.  
“What the f-”. Sherlock looked around, but the strange man was nowhere to be seen. He soon realized he was back at his flat. He heard screams from an elderly woman coming from inside of the flat. Was that...Mrs. Hudson!?  
He burst inside the flat, only to see Mrs. Hudson’s husband trying to hit her with a belt.  
“STOP YOU BASTARD!” Sherlock yelled, lunging at the (deceased?) man, punching him. The much older and stronger man kicked Sherlock off of him and punched his face twice, leaving him a bloody nose.   
“Get outta’ here boy, mind your business” He said quietly but aggressively. Sherlock looked at Mrs. Hudson, then back at the man, and shook his head. He stood back up, and once again tackled the man, this time punching him until he passed out. Mrs. Hudson hesitantly walked over to Sherlock, reaching out a hand to help him up.   
“Are you okay, Mrs. Hudson?”  
“Y-yes dearie, thank you. Do I know you?”  
Sherlock tilted his head, confused.  
“Yes...I-it’s me...Sherlock”  
“Oh what a cute little name. Sorry dearie, I’m afraid I don’t know you.” Mrs. Hudson smiled sadly.   
“Would you like a cuppa?” She asked the frightened boy.  
“N-no...Thanks but I-i’m g-g-good…”  
“Oh you poor thing, you should get that stutter looked at.” She examined Sherlock again, realizing that his clothes were soaking wet with freezing water. She gasped and quickly ran to her passed-out husband’s room, grabbing him some oversized but dry clothing. She handed them to Sherlock, “Here you are. Please do change, you might freeze to death.”.

…

On Sherlock’s way out of 221b Baker Street, now with dry, comfortable clothes, he looked back at Mrs. Hudson’s shop. It wasn’t there, almost like it never did exist. He gulped and then pulled out his phone to text Lestrade. 

Sherlock: Hey, any new cases yet? -SH

Lestrade: Sorry. Wrong number.

Sherlock: Stop playing with me. Where is John? Is he okay?

Lestrade: Like I said, wrong number. I don’t know a John.

Sherlock: John Watson.

Lestrade: Oh… go to Brompton Cemetery

Sherlock’s eyes widened. He turned off his mobile phone and shakily placed it back into his pocket.

…

He walked around Brompton Cemetery, until a certain grave caught his eye. It read;

-Captain John Hamish Watson  
Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers-

Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks. It felt like the whole world was spinning, but he didn’t. He stayed in place, and watched as everything and everyone moved on without him. He began to sob as he placed a hand on top of the tombstone. He shut his eyes tightly.  
“It’s not real…it’s...n-not real…” he said to himself. He looked up at the sky,   
“Azrael...p-please...tell me it’s not real…” he whispered.  
“Wake up” a faint voice echoed through his mind  
“W-what? P-please...I want my family and friends back…”  
“Then wake up”

Sherlock awoke. His hands and feet freezing, his chest heaving. He began to hyperventilate as tears streamed down his cheeks. He sat up so that his back was against the headboard. John’s arm was still draped over his waist, thankfully.  
He opened up his phone and looked through his contacts, finally finding Lestrade’s number. He called the number and the voice of a sleepy man picked up.  
“Ugh...Sherlock...It’s 6 in the morning. What do you want?”  
Sherlock hesitated to respond back to him, “W-w-wait...I-i’m real...r-r-ight? Y-you know me?”  
“What- Yes of course, you idiot. Also please go to a speech therapist.”  
Lestrade hung up the phone. Although he was still hyperventilating, Sherlock smiled to himself.  
He listened downstairs, and heard Mrs. Hudson happily doing her afternoon cleaning.  
He looked over to the older man sleeping next to him, and began to cry even more. He shook John’s shoulders to wake him up.  
“What do you want Sherlock?” He asked sleepily, with his eyes still closed.  
“J-j-john...I...l-love y-y-you….”  
John’s eyes immediately opened, he sat up and looked at the hyperventilating, crying Sherlock.  
“Sherl...I love you too.”  
John brought Sherlock into a hug and kissed his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY ITS SHORT AGBHEEVJE AND SORRY THE JOHNLOCK SUCKS IN THIS CHAPTER-


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NOT A REAL CHAPTER, JUST AN UPDATE**

hi guys i just wanted to say thank you for reading this, it means a lot to me. just wanted to announce a few updates :)

1: the alpha/omega tags that i put do not actually go with the story lol. in my mind, alpha means top/dom and omega means bottom/sub, but i didn't want to put those either because i felt like it would mislead people into thinking that this is smut, cuz it's not (sorry). i removed the alpha/omega tags tho because there were some people who thought that the story was going to turn into an omegaverse bUt ItS nOt LoL, iM jUsT rEaLlY bAd WiTh TaGs...ANYWAYS YEAH HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND

2: sorry that i haven't been updating recently. i usually update daily, but i was on vacation and there is no wifi or service where i was so i was unable to update. more chapters will come tomorrow! :)

3: if i ever stop updating randomly, then it's because ao3 got blocked by my wifi. i can assure you that if this does happen, i will come back, but it might take awhiile

4: IM PICKLE RICK, WUBBA LUBBA DUB DUB

~Finnley


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eek i hope you enjoy. and feedback is really appreciated <3  
> ALSO IM REALLY SORRY FOR MAKING SHORT ASS CHAPTERS  
> WUBBA LUBBA DUB DUB  
> RICKITICKITAVVIII BIAATCHHHHH

“Sherlock, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” John asked the tearful young man as he was observing his arm to make sure the wound hadn’t reopened.  
Sherlock laid his head back onto the headboard and closed his eyes.  
“I-i had a dream. A-a-and in that d-dream everyone that I love and c-care about didn’t know m-me. And y-y-you were d-dead. You died in a w-war.” Sherlock explained quietly, and then reopened his eyes, watching John carefully re-wrap the cut on his arm. John quickly finished wrapping the wound and then looked at Sherlock with a sad expression on his face.  
“Have you ever seen the movie It’s a Wonderful Life?” He asked, laying back down next to Sherlock, who was staring up at the ceiling with his arms rested beside him.  
“N-no? What’s it about?”  
“So basically this man named George gets into some trouble and decides to end his life, but before he can do so his guardian angel stops him by having George save him from drowning. Then the angel shows George what life would have been like if he were never born”

Sherlock lay there for a few moments without saying anything.  
“J-john.”  
“Hm?”  
“That’s exactly what my dream was about.”  
John shot his eyes over to Sherlock with an expression that was a mixture of confusion and shock.  
“Wait, like...all of it?”  
“Y-yeah I mean except that my n-name was Sherlock and t-the angels name was A-azrael”  
A few moments of silence passed…  
“Azrael? W-wait I thought you were an atheist” John said, breaking the silence.  
“I am b-but I grew up J-Jewish, so that might b-be why I know the name” Sherlock replied back, trying his best not to stutter.

…

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Lyova’s barks coming from the other room. It wasn’t his normal, friendly or playful barks. It was more so his aggressive bark that was used when he scented a bad person or criminal.  
John looked at the door and then back at Sherlock, “I’m gonna go see what he’s barking at” he said before giving Sherlock a quick kiss on the cheek.  
He got up from the bed and his feet met the cold hardwood floors. He slowly opened the door and peeked his head out to see Lyova. Lev was standing in front of the door, growling with his tail tucked between his legs and his ears back. John opened the door the rest of the way and walked over to Lev. He looked through the peephole of the door and saw nothing, but heard heavy footsteps.  
He slowly backed away from the door and looked into the bedroom  
“Sherlock, hand me my gun” He whispered.  
“Okay” Sherlock whispered back. Sherlock opened the drawers on the bedside table and grabbed the handgun. He didn’t exactly hand it to John, but instead attempted to toss it to him, figuring that John would catch it. Instead, it flew over John’s shoulder and landed behind him with a big thump.  
“What the fuck, Sherlock!” John whisper yelled.  
“Oh c-come on, th-that was a perfectly good throw!” Sherlock quietly yelled from the other room.  
John rolled his eyes and angrily picked up the gun. He walked back over to the door and tried to look through the peephole, but failed as the door burst open and hit him in the face. Lyova rushed over to John who was now lying on the floor, and began licking the blood pouring out of his nose.  
John squinted his eyes and saw that the man whom they thought was a murderer was just Lestrade.  
“L-lestrade? What the hell are you doing here at this hour!?” John demanded an answer.  
“Agh, John I am so sorry!” Lestrade reached out a hand and helped John up.  
“It’s fine…” John said angrily and walked over to the kitchen in search of a cloth to catch the blood pouring from his nose.  
“Is Sherl here?” Lestrade asked.  
“Yeah. He’s in the bedroom. You could’ve called ya know”  
Sherlock appeared from the bedroom and slowly walked over to the kitchen, in his black and maroon dressing gown.  
“J-John! Are you okay?” He asked worryingly, as he pushed John’s head backwards to stop the bleeding.  
“AHH BLOOD IS GOING DOWN MY THROAT!” He exclaimed, coughing.  
“Shh It’s okay John. Calm down” He said soothingly, and jokingly pat John’s head. John shot Sherlock an annoyed and angry look, and Sherlock immediately shut up.  
“Heh...uh sorry about this little incident. I need your guys’ help with a case.”  
“Could it not wait until morning?” John groaned.  
“John, It’s already 7am, what is your definition of morning? Anyways, there is a serial killer on the loose and I promise you we have done everything we can to search for them, but we can’t find them, dead or alive. W-we really need you two to help us before there is another murder.”  
“S-so you know w-who it is?” Sherlock asked  
“Yes, but we keep tracing him back to the same spot. We have tried almost everything, even K-9’s. But we keep getting stuck in an endless loop”  
“F-fine. I g-guess we can help.” Sherlock said, looking at John. John hesitated but eventually nodded his head in approval.  
“Thank you guys. Please leave within the next hour. This is urgent” He said, handing over the information about the murders to Sherlock.  
“Jeeze, okay. We get it.” John responded aggressively.

…

Once Lestrade left the flat, Sherlock turned towards John and extended his arms, placing his hands on John’s shoulders.  
“I think you look quite sexy with a bloody nose.” Sherlock stated, then removed his hands from John’s shoulders and went into the bathroom, starting up the shower.  
“He didn’t even stutter.” John whispered to himself, blushing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think you look quite sexy with a bloody nose :)
> 
> *NOTE* next chapter is gonna be quite gorey btw so just beware, lol.
> 
> also bro i could not stop laughing while writing this XD


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *IMPORTANT* just a lil note; this chapter was written before any other chapter in the story. i'm not making many revisions so the writing style in this chapter will probably be much shittier than any other chapter. also, i did a bit of a time jump. i didn't include when they were searching for the serial killer, but instead just included when they were chasing after him. make sense?  
> **ALSO GORE WARNING**

John and Sherlock sprinted towards the alleged killer, their hearts racing along with their legs. It was a chilly January night. All John wanted to do was to get them out of this weather before they got sick.  
“Sherlock! We have to stop, he’s too far gone!” John pleaded.  
“No!” Sherlock’s paced quickened, exactly as John’s became slower.  
Suddenly, as Sherlock was almost in arms reach of their suspect, they took a sharp left turn to avoid a small, yet dangerous, cliff. A cliff that Sherlock could not see in the pitch black night. Although his brain tried to convince himself to turn left, his body wasn’t quick enough. In almost a cartoonish manner, Sherlock halted to the best of his ability, but the inertia had left him stumbling. He circled his arms in an attempt to balance himself, but in doing so only resulted in him falling forward off the small 17ft cliff.  
“Sherlock!” John cried. The killer had gotten away, but John did not care. Sherlock could potentially be dead, and if not, was most likely extremely injured.  
John frantically searched for a route to get to Sherlock without having to jump off the cliff himself. He eventually found a path through some trees that lead only a few metres from where his best friend lies. Sherlock’s shirt was ripped to shreds from all the thorns and brambles he fell through, even though the brambles had softened his fall a bit.  
John scurried over to him and immediately took Sherlock’s blood-drenched shirt off. Thick thorns were piercing through his ribs, and blood was slowly oozing out.  
He checked Sherlock’s pulse rate.  
Slower than normal, but he would be okay. John sighed with relief.  
Sherlock was unconscious, but once again, he would live. John rolled up his flatmate’s right pant leg. His ankle was twisted and beginning to swell purple. His lips and fingernails were also beginning to become as blue as his eyes. Sherlock must’ve gotten a fever from the freezing rain they had previously been running in. The closest hospital was more than 30 miles away, considering they were in a forest that was located in the middle of nowhere. John impulsively decided to untwist Sherlock’s ankle, since he was unconscious and wouldn’t feel any pain.  
It made a noticeable cracking noise that John winced at. He grabbed a bandage wrap and wrapped it around Sherlock’s ankle as a makeshift solution to a cast or boot.  
John then slowly picked up unconscious Sherlock and carried him on his back, careful not to injure any other bones, specifically his ribs, that are most likely either broken or cracked.  
He began to speed walk back to the car, fearing that if he ran he would hurt Sherlock even more or wake him up, which would cause the detective to be in tremendous pain.  
A few minutes passed, and John heard a soft, croaky voice from behind him.  
“J-John…”  
“Shh, it’s okay Sherl” John comforted him, but still continued to walk.  
“But...John…” Sherlock lifted his head from John’ shoulder and frantically scanned the woods they were in. John heard what seemed to be quiet cries coming from the detective. He was still in shock, so the intense pain hadn’t quite registered yet.  
“Sherlock, you need to go back to sleep”  
The deep crunching sound of the dead winter leaves as they walked must’ve been relaxing for Sherlock, because surprisingly, he drifted back to sleep without putting up a fight.

…

Sherlock awoke on John’s back again, this time outside their flat.  
“John!” Sherlock yelled, confused. “Put me down now!”  
John looked over his shoulder to Sherlock, “No.” He said, flatly.  
Sherlock started kicking in an attempt to free from John’s grip, but stopped once he screamed in pain and nearly passed out again. Once they got back inside their flat, John carefully placed Sherlock on the couch.  
“J-John w-what happened?” Sherlock asked, unaware that he had blood dripping down his stomach, and probably broken ribs too.  
“Sherl, look down”  
Sherlock looked down at his chest, wide-eyed at the sight of thorns jabbed into his ribs, and blood dripping from his stomach and onto the hardwood floors. Tears began to grow in his eyes. John couldn’t tell if it was from pain or the fact that the killer got away.  
“This is going to heart” John implied, without giving context.  
“What-” Sherlock was cut off when John yanked two of the thorns out of Sherlock’s ribs.  
“OW STOP STOP STOP!” Sherlock screamed.  
“Sherl...there’s one more, I have to get it out before it gets infected” John gave Sherlock a look of sorrow, he couldn’t bear to see Sherlock in such pain.  
“I’m sorry…” John said quietly as he ripped the last thorn, the deepest one, out of Sherlock’s side. He didn’t scream, but he did flinch and cry out a little. John rushed to the kitchen, threw the thorns in the trash can, and grabbed a wet rag. He walked back into the living room and dabbed Sherlock’s ribcage to clean up all the blood.  
As he was doing so, Sherlock quietly chuckled to himself and then said “Why is it always m-me that g-gets injured?”  
John looked up at him, “Honestly, I have no clue...but...you have to go to the hospital…”  
Sherlock’s expression immediately changed from a smile to a face of panic.  
“NO!” Sherlock screamed and started crying.  
“Woah, jeez...okay. Well then i’m going to have to take care of you.” John implied.  
“Okay…”  
“Which means you have to do whatever I say. Which also includes eating and sleeping” John added.  
Sherlock hesitated, “F-fine…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WUBBA LUBBA DUB DUBSSS  
> YEAHHHH  
> WOOOOOOHHH


	9. Chapter 9

update: don't worry, i'm not dead. just binge watching adventure time.

also in history we are learning about this man John Locke. and istg i was not paying attention one bit but as soon as i heard my teacher say John Locke i literally yelled out to myself (we do virtual learning so no one heard me lol) "JOHNLOCK!?" and then got so disappointed when i found out we were not learning about Johnlock :(. but tbh the man does actually kinda look like if martin freeman and benedict cumberbatch had a child...

anyways I PROMISE i will post the next chapter soon

btw Ginger (my dog who inspired Lyova) says hi uwu

I LOVE YOU LITTLE AMAZING LIL FRICKERS

~Finn  
(tHe HuMaN)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NOTE** sorry i haven’t updated. i know i’m a real dipstick. i got caught up in school...and then i started re-binge watching adventure time...and then cuz of that i went on a bubbline shipping spree. BUT I AM BACK NOW AND THE WILD SHIPPING BEAST INSIDE OF ME HAS BEEN TAMED (you’re welcome). this chapter fricking SUCKS but it’s also the longest one yet sooooo yOu’Re KiNd Of WeLcOmE. oh and another thing...this fanfic is just made for fun and out of pure boredom. it’s not serious like at all sO YeH. enjoy this piece of garbage uwu

“H-hey John” Sherlock said as he limped out of the bathroom. He had taken a shower to clean all the dry blood off of him, so that John could put bandages over the punctures and sew the open wounds.

“Yes, Sherly?” John asked while looking for the supplies he needed to help Sherlock.

“Oh I d-didn’t have a q-question, I was j-j-just saying hi.”

John chuckled, “Oh okay.”

John opened a cabinet to get the supplies for sewing Sherlock’s opened wounds. He reached up and tried to grab it, but was too short. Usually, he would just ask Sherlock to grab things on the top shelf, since he was a head taller than John. But John didn’t want Sherlock to lift his arms up, because it would probably result in the wounds to start bleeding again.  
John shamefully walked over to the table and grabbed a chair. He dragged it back over to the counter and stood on top of it. This time he was easily able to grab the supplies. He stood back down and put the chair back where it belonged. He didn’t like being “the short friend”, it made him think that people saw him as helpless and vulnerable.

“Go sit on the couch, Sherl”

Sherl slowly walked over to the couch and sat down. John had to first inject him with a dose of morphine to numb the pain all over his body. Although he was definitely not too afraid of needles, they still gave him unpleasant flashbacks from when he had a drug addiction, so he just looked away.

“Did y-y-you do it yet? Is it d-done?” Sherlock asked, squinting his eyes and forcing his head in the other direction.

“Sherlock I-I haven’t even gotten the morphine inside of the syringe yet…” John smiled.

“Oh…” Sherlock replied, cautiously opening his eyes. He turned his head to look at John, who was struggling to get the morphine inside the syringe.

“Hey aren’t you a doctor?” Sherlock asked mockingly and smirked slightly.

John shot Sherlock another one of those “shut the fuck up before i punch you” looks, and the smirk on Sherlock’s face immidiatley faded.  
After another minute of John struggling to put the morphine inside the dumbass syringe, Sherlock finally started to get annoyed. He could see John’s hands were shaking, but why? Why would he be scared or nervous to put some milligrams of drugs inside a little syringe. Possibly because it reminded him of when Sherlock had nearly killed himself on a private plane from drug overdose? Or when John beat the living daylights out of him...

Sherlock had gotten over his drug addiction nearly two years ago, and the thought of relapsing had never crossed through his mind even once (lie). 

“Let me do it” Sherlock offered, putting his hand out.

John looked at the hand, but hesitated to give the syringe and bottle to him, “Promise me you will only put the amount that you need in, no more, okay?”

“I promise”

While continuing to make eye contact with Sherlock, John placed the syringe and bottle of morphine in his hand. Sherlock closed his hand and got off the couch, he knelt down in front of the coffee table and sat in a childish manner. He put the bottle on the coffee table and then snatched John’s phone from his hand without asking. Sherlock’s phone had been lost in the forest while they were chasing the killer, and there was most likely no chance of getting it back. 

“Hey give that back” John demanded, sounding somewhat surprised.

Sherlock didn’t reply, but instead turned the phone on and swiped up, turning the flashlight on. He propped the phone up against a book and held the syringe in his hand like a pencil. He pulled back the plunger to the 10mg line. He kept the syringe in his left hand, and used his free hand to attach the needle into the rubber top, but couldn’t do so because he had realized that he didn’t have the needle with him or anywhere on the coffee table.

“John. W-where’s the needle?” Sherlock asked with a “you fucking dumbass-” look.

“Oh...uh…” John fiddled with his hands.

Sherlock face palmed, “No w-w-wonder you couldn’t get the f-fucking morphine inside the syringe. You don’t even have a n-needle!”

John blushed out of embarrassment, “Sorry...I’m just really nervous right now. Just the thought of needles and syringes reminds me of that….not so good period of time”

Sherlock sighed, he had been correct. His mind never failed him. Sherlock patted the spot on the floor right next to him, asking John to come sit beside him. John walked over next to Sherlock and plopped down. They were now facing each other. Sherlock put both his hands on John’s shoulders and looked him directly in the eyes (something he didn’t do often). 

“John. I know we both went t-through a lot and we both s-s-suffered immensely. You had to watch me slowly tear apart my b-body and myself as a whole, but I promise you that all of that was in the past...A-and…” Sherlock began to shed a few tears... “I just thought that if I numbed the pain then it would go away, but it didn’t...and it’s still here. If anything, d-d-d-drugs just made it worse. Watching e-everyone I love slowly grow more distant from me each p-passing day just made it worse. You are the only thing that made it better, and yet I still managed to nearly lose you m-m-more than once. The other night I just got so overwhelmed with hatred for myself, and I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t thinking about you, or about Lyova or Molly or Mrs. Hudson... I love you John, and I promise I will do everything I can to help both of us and to not hurt you again. I promise.”

John’s eyes began to water as Sherlock started to break down in tears. He reached over to the sobbing young man and wrapped his arms around his waist. Sherlock nuzzled his forehead into John’s neck, but kept his hands in his lap. They rested there in complete silence (other than the soft sobs coming from Sherlock) for a few moments. 

“Sherlock?” John said quietly

“Yes?” Sherlock sniffed, he lifted his head up from John’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes once again.

“I love you. Don’t ever doubt that.” John confirmed with a sad smile on his face as he lifted up a hand to wipe away the tears streaming down Sherlock’s cheek.

“I love you too”

John pulled Sherlock close to him and kissed him. Sherlock kissed back and cupped John’s face with his hands. After a few seconds, John pulled away. This could be continued later, but for now he needed to take care of Sherlock.

“Where do you keep the needles?” John asked.

“How am I supposed to know? You hid them. Lev probably knows where they are”

“Jeez, when did you find the time to train that dog?” John asked and smiled.

Sherlock smiled back, but didn’t answer. Instead he called Lyova over to them.

...

“Levvy! Come here boy!” Lyova got up from his soft faux-fur dog bed as soon as he heard his owner call his name. He was slightly spoiled in a way, but he loved it of course. Although he loved helping his owners even more.  
He was an incredibly loyal pup and would do anything to protect John and Sherlock (More-so Sherlock, who was his favourite, and almost like a big brother to him) from any harm that crosses their paths. Thankfully, Sherlock almost always managed to convince John to bring him with them on cases. There were of course the few times where John said no, though. But it was just to keep Lev out of danger. John couldn’t bear to see Sherlock upset. And even though he wasn’t very fond of dogs, he was actually beginning to grow a bond with Lyova.

Lyova padded over to Sherlock and John, whom were still sitting on the floor. He jumped up on the couch the look at them both, and tilted his head.

Sherlock scratched behind Lyova’s ear as he talked softly to him, “Hey Levvy, go fetch my black bag with the needles in it, won’t you”

“BARK (Aye aye, Captain)!” Lyova barked, and licked Sherlock’s face, causing him to giggle.

“Alright alright, off you go now”

Lyova sprang up from the couch, and spastically ran around the flat in search of a black bag with needles, with his long golden fur flowing behind him. This craziness that came from Lev is what Sherlock liked to call “The Zoomies”. It usually happens if he hasn’t been out to play for more than twenty-four hours.

“John can you do me a favour?” Sherlock asked, smiling as he watched Lev crazily sprint in circles around John’s chair.

“Yes, Love?”

“C-c-can we take Lev to Molly’s house in a little bit? Just so h-he can run around with Mushu (Molly’s Bernese Mountain Dog), I would take him to Hyde P-p-park usually but well...I’m uh...kinda injured.”

John chuckled, “Yes of course. I’ll text her.”

Sherlock smiled and focused his gaze on John istead of the spastic puppy, “Thank you”

John grabbed his phone from the coffee table and scrolled through his contacts, searching for Molly’s name. He rarely texts her, so it took a while to find. John hadn’t told anyone of the incident back in the forest, so he couldn’t even imagine how many texts Sherlock had gotten from Molly in the past night. Molly and Sherlock text constantly, they are best friends after all. Gosh...She must be worried out of her mind.  
John finally found Molly’s contact, and clicked on it.

John: Hey Molly! It’s John. Sorry if you are worried about Sherlock not answering your texts. Last night there was a little incident, and Sherlock now has some punctured ribs and a broken leg...and his phone got lost. So, since Sherlock can't run around with him at Hyde Park, I was wondering if we could take Lyova to your house so he can run around with Mushu? And maybe have dinner there too?

Molly: Hi John! Of course you guys can bring Levvy over! I’m so so so so sorry to hear about Sherl :( I was indeed worried sick, but I’m glad he’s alive. I can get dinner ready! What would you guys rather eat; pasta or steak?

...

John looked up from his phone for a brief period, “Sherlock”

“Whhhaaaat Jawwwnnnn”

“Pasta or steak?”

“Steak.”

“Really? You love pasta”

“Yeah I do. But the morphine might make me throw up, and in all honesty John, I really REALLY do not wanna throw up pasta” Sherlock shivered at the thought of a noodle going back up his throat.

“Fair point. Will you actually eat it though?”

“I will try”

“That’s good enough for me”

John resumed back to his texting.

...

John: Thank you so much :) I asked Sherlock, he wants steak. He might be a little picky though.

Molly: Ah that’s fine, I’m used to it. I think we’re all used to it.

John: Agreed. See you in about 2 hours!

Molly: Cya :)))

…

John turned his phone off and set it back down on the coffee table. He turned around to see Lyova sprinting around his chair and playfully growling. Sherlock was laughing hysterically. John face palmed.

“Ugh, Sherlock, you are encouraging this behaviour”

“aHgHh j-JohN...hEh...he r-really HATES that cHair-” Sherlock tried to say through tears (of laughter)

“English please? And he doesn’t hate it, he’s just showing us where the bag is.”

John walked over to the chair and lifted the cushion up, revealing a small black bag.

“I don’t understand why he can’t just bark once or twice…” John muttered, walking back over to the spot on the floor that Sherlock was sitting on.

“Hey I heard that, and it’s because he has the zoomies” Sherlock replied back

“You’re adorable” John said

“Who? Me or the dog?”

“You, dingus”

Sherlock called Lyova over. Lyova ran to Sherlock, and he picked the puppy up and placed him in his lap, playing with the floppy golden ears that were too big for his head.

“So you’re telling me that this fluffy golden ray of sunshine isn’t adorable?”

“No no no, that’s not what I meant. You are both adorable, but I was referring to you” John said

“I know, I know, I was just joking around. You want me to put the morphine in the syringe now?” Sherlock offered

“That’s okay, Love. I think I can do it now.” John smiled, and Sherlock smiled back wholesomely.

John opened up the small black bag and carefully grabbed a needle. He took a disinfecting wipe (from the same bag) and wiped the needle with it. Then, he attached the needle to the syringe. He inserted the needle into the vial (bottle) and pushed the air out of the syringe. He turned the vial upside down, and pulled back the plunger to the 10mg line. 

“Okay, I’m gonna do it now. Look away if you want.”

Sherlock looked away to his side and squinted his eyes, like he did earlier. 

“Done!” John said

“Wait, really?” Sherlock asked, opening his eyes and looking back at John.

“Yup.”

“Wow. I thought that’d hurt a bit more.”

John smiled, “Well, I’m gonna go to the doctor's real quick and buy a brace for your leg. Oh, and crutches too. Do you want to come with me?”

“Sure. Carry me?”

“Of course. But you need a shirt on first. I will carry you the entire time, but they won’t let you in without a shirt.”

John rushed to Sherlock’s room and grabbed a clean shirt from his closet, he walked back to the living room. He lifted Sherlock’s arms up and put the shirt on (Like dressing a child lol).

“Why is it so oversized? You like like a little kid” John teased.

“Shut up. It’s Mycroft’s” Sherlock said shamefully

“Awwww”

“HUSH UP!” Sherlock said, angrily, yet flustered.

“Oh calm down, I’m kidding. Now come on, get on my back”

Sherlock slowly got up from where he was sitting. He hadn’t drank or eaten anything in a while, so he got a little dizzy. He put a hand on the wall to steady himself for a moment, and then proceeded to limp over to John, and weakly hopped onto John’s back.

“WOOHOO LES GOOOO” John exclaimed. For some reason, he seemed a little bit too happy about this moment. It was a bit scary.

“Jeez John, I’m not a child”

“Hush, just let me have this moment”

Together, they shared a laugh as they ran down the steps and outside 221b Baker Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know nothing about m e d i c i n e  
> also feedback is really really really appreciated, sO lIke PleAsE cOmMeNt If YoU cAn-


	11. Chapter 11

helloooo guys uwu. i just wanted to show you my dog Ginger. she was the inspiration for Levvy boi <3 and if you're wondering, yes, she only has one eye. she my best fren tho UwU


	12. Chapter 12

sorry i haven't added any new chapters lately, i got depressed. everyone is just celebrating the new year, expecting that 2021 is gonna be so much better, but it's not. nothing changes that quick. and i don't believe in miracles or anything like that (because i swear to fuck, i have hoped for a miracle so many times and all that i get is even worse shit), but if some sort of "miracle" happens this year, i might cry. maybe i'll even gain faith again. i've lost hope, religion (im jewish but when has religion helped me? never. fuck religion. atheism, good morning), friends, faith in fucking humanity. WTF IS WRONG WITH HUMANITY!? YOU IDIOTS ARE OUT HERE KILLING ANIMALS, PEOPLE, THE ENVIRONMENT.

here is just a list of things that i would like to personally say "FUCK YOU" to:

-trump  
-anti-maskers  
-kaitlin bennett  
-people who just LOVEEEE to destroy the environment  
-white supremacists  
-pro life dumb fucks  
-conservatives and republicans (not all of them, but the bad ones. i still love my conservative family. but their opinions are dumb)  
-my grandma  
-that idiot that decided to kill brian moser off (joke, even tho im still mad about it)  
-rapists  
-racists  
-abusers  
-murderers (even tho im oddly obsessed with you, NEVER murder the innocent. live by the code of Harry :))   
-anyone who commits a hate crime against minorities

holy mary mother of fucktown there are many many more but i don't want to be a burden to the loves that even bother to read this shitfilled rant. 

okay but remember deb morgan saying this: "a bAbY? a mother fucking rolly polly chubby cheeked shit machine? are you kidding me?"

yeah well that's how i feel about humanity at the moment.

where are my optimists at??? someone help me lol

ANYWAYS, im working on the next chapter rn.

oh yeah hope you guys had a nice holiday.

i need someone to talk to.

byeeee


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